Back to Basics
by Ri696q
Summary: After his use of Mugetsu Ichigo has lost his shinigami powers and returns to his normal life. However, when Urahara offers him an oppotunity to gain new and different powers he simply cannot refuse.
1. The Proposal

**A/N: Warning! Don't read if you haven't at least gotten to "Mugetsu" is revealed. Otherwise may contain spoilers for Bleach.**

**Takes place during 6th year.**

**This story was requested by Ciekawa Osoba who asked me if I wanted to do a story with Ichigo as the main character and some other specifications xD I accepted and look what the cat dragged in ^^**

* * *

_**-The Proposal-**_

It was the first day of summer vacation. Once again Kurosaki Ichigo had purely refused to go on one of Asano Kiego's summer trips to hunt girls and enjoy their "springtime of youth" as he called it.

"Come on, Ichigo, Mizuiro," Kiego complained with fake tears in his eyes, "We're only young once! We have to enjoy the summer. Just think of all those girls just waiting for us to come and pick them up!" He got stars in his eyes and his two friends could only imagine what was going on in the mind of Asano Kiego. They looked at each other and shook their heads.

"I told you! I already have my whole vacation planned out!" The former shinigami substitute said, clearly annoyed by his friend's behavior in the middle of the street as they were walking home from school.

"But Ichigoo, you're no fun. You won't even tell me what you're going to do! What could possibly be more important than enjoying your youthfulness?"

Ichigo sighed, getting more and more annoyed. "I already told you; stuff." Actually he hadn't anything planned, he just didn't want to spend his summer vacation ruining his reputation.

Kiego gave him a suspicious look. "I bet you're going to visit Rukia-chan while Mizuiro and I are stuck back here," he accused.

"Actually," the third friend interrupted," I also have plans. "

"You too, MIzuiro!" Kiego cried," Why have all my friends left me? WHY!"

"Stop overreacting," Ichigo said, "it's not the end of the world."

"Says the guy who ditches his friends for a girl."

"I am not ditching you for a girl," the former shinigami substitue sighed, having now given up on his retarded comrade. "I didn't even say I was going to Soul Society. Besides I have lost my powers so I can't even go there anymore. Jeez would you just shut up already."

And that was the end of that discussion since Ichigo refused to speak any work other than goodbye after that.

* * *

"I'm home!" Ichigo kicked off his shoes and went into the kitchen where he halted. "Urahara-san?" he asked dumbfounded, "what are you doing here?"

"Ahh, Kurosaki-san," said Urahara Kisuke, who was sitting at the kitchen table in front of Kurosaki Isshin," I am merely discussing something with your father."

Ichigo looked at his father. "No wonder I wasn't assaulted as soon as I stepped in." He scratched his head and yawned. "Well if you don't need me I'll go upstairs and finish my summer homework."

"Homework!" His father exclaimed in disbelief and slammed a hand down in the table which caused him to whimper in pain. "It's summer! You should go out and have fun, you know. Enjoy your springtime of youth!"

"That's why I'll finish it early. That gives me plenty of time to enjoy my so called "springtime of youth" as you and Kiego seem to be so obsessed with."

"Huh?" Isshin's eyes widened. "Asano-san is a smart boy then. You should listen to him." He slammed his hand down in the table again with same result as before. "From now on I have decided you should spend more time with Asano-san!"

Ichigo rolled his eyes and left the room, obviously not in the mood for his father's rash behavior. The two older men looked at his back before giving each other knowing looks.

"He'd better make his homework now, Isshin-san," Urahara stated, "He'll have absolutely no time if he's going to catch up on five school years during one summer vacation."

The head of the Kurosaki family nodded. "I'm going to miss him though. A year is a long time."

The other learned back in his chair. "He hasn't even said yes yet. Hell, I haven't even given him the offer."

"I know he will accept." Isshin smiled and Urahara swore he could trace a bit of sadness in the other man's expression. "He has always taken the role of the protector, and this is simply another opportunity for him to fulfill that role."

There was a knock on the door to Ichigo's room while he was currently making his homework.

"Come in," he said and Urahara strode into the room, making sure to close the door behind him. Ichigo wasn't surprised; in fact he had been expecting the former captain of 12th division to pay him a visit before he left.

"Good evening Kurosaki-san."

"What do you want`" He wasted no time with politeness. If Urahara-san was here he always had something of importance to say.

"My my, why so harsh, Kurosaki-san?" Urahara had his fan out but wasn't currently using it. He was merely hiding the lower part of his face with it like he always did.

"Just tell me."

Urahara looked at him, his eyes shadowed by his hat. "What would you say, Kurosaki-san, to learn magic?"

* * *

**If you like it, please tell me, if you didn't, please tell me why xD**


	2. Snakes on a Plane

**Enjoy ^^**

("Japanese")

* * *

_**-Snakes on a Plane-**_

The plane was dark; the only light came from the small video screens each seat was equipped with. Ichigo was staring at the screen in front of him, watching a random movie. He could not sleep like Urahara beside him and after several failed attempts at getting some rest he had surrendered and instead picked a random movie. It wasn't half bad actually, but he had preferred to sleep. Right now it was in the middle of the night in Japan and there were still a few hours till they landed in Heathrow. Hopefully he could get some sleep afterwards when they had arrived at wherever they were staying. The former shinigami substitute had no idea of the geographics of England, but apparently they were going to stay with some old geezer who was the headmaster of Ichigo's new school. There he was going to get better at English and be properly introduced to how things worked out in the magic society.

The movie ended. Ichigo glanced at the sleeping Urahara. Before they left for England they had fabricated a story about how the magic society of Japan functioned because no one, not even the headmaster could be told what shinigami really were. Thankfully, the magic society of Japan was almost non-existent. There were only a few priests and priestesses left, and those were the ones who had made up the main pillar of the magic in Japan. The rest had been swallowed by modern Japan. Ichigo inwardly shrugged and turned to find another movie worth watching. According to Urahara the wizards didn't use any electronic devices of any kind. That meant he would not get to watch any movies for at least half a year, until Christmas where he would spend the holiday at home with his family and friends. He sighed. Everyone except Ishida had complained, especially Yuzu and Karin who had started crying when he spilled the beans. He knew he was going to miss them, but he would do anything to gain power, and leaving them for a year was a smile prize to pay for being able to keep them out of harm's way. That was just the way he was.

* * *

It was a few seconds before Harry Potter realized he had left Privet Drive. He and Dumbledore were now standing outside in front of an airport, judging from the deafening sounds of airplanes taking off and landing, the lights on their wings shining as stars in the night air.

"Are you alright?" Albus Dumbledore asked, "the sensation does take some getting used to."

"I'm fine," Harry answered, "but I think I might prefer brooms."

The headmaster smiled and began walking towards the entrance of the airport with Harry quickly following behind, still quite dizzy.

"Sir," he said as he caught up to the older wizard, "what are we doing here?"

Dumbledore glanced at him but continued on with his long strides. "We're here to pick up two guests from Japan," he said, "they should be arriving anytime soon."

"These guests," he started, "they are magicians, right?"

"Of course," Dumbledore said and made a brief stop to look at a map of the airport, "or at least what would be the equivalent of it."

"Then why don't they just use magic to get here? I mean, it's a long flight from Japan to England, is it not? Wouldn't it be better to just use a portkey?"

Dumbledore turned his head away from the map and smiled at him. "I'm afraid such methods would cause us trouble. You see, their magical system is different from ours so one of the guests, a Mr. Ichigo Kurosaki is still a high school student. Now it wouldn't be a problem if he was just going to stay here during the summer, but Mr. Kurosaki is going to attend Hogwarts this year. It would be very strange for him to skip a whole school year and then suddenly show up with no proper explanation as to where he has been, wouldn't it? Not to mention the gap in his education which would cause tremendous harm for his future career. Instead we have arranged some formalities so that Mr. Kurosaki can attend an English boarding school as a study abroad student on paper while he actually attends Hogwarts. Of course he has to fly here and be registered by the authorities for that to work out. Suddenly appearing here would be very suspicious."

Harry's eyes widened as he followed Dumbledore who had apparently finished looking at the map. "He's going to stay at Hogwarts?"

"Yes, Mr. Urahara contacted me and asked if Mr. Kurosaki could attend. He believed it would be interesting for his student to learn our ways of magic. I can only agree with him."

The young wizard nodded, though Dumbledore couldn't see it. He wondered how wizards from Japan would be like. He had never given a thought to how the magic societies looked like outside of Europe. Not even when Ron had happily explained about his trip to Egypt 3 years ago.

Eventually they came to a halt. "I'm glad we made it," Dumbledore commented as he looked up at the information screens, "I was afraid the visit at your Uncle and Aunt's had taken too much time so we wouldn't be here on time to pick them up."

"Professor?" Harry began, "how come Kurosaki still needs to attend a muggle school? Wouldn't it be better to be in a magical school?"

Dumbledore smiled down at him. "As I told you, their system is very different. Their real education starts when they are erased from the muggle system."

"Erased?"

"Yes, you can say they fake their own death. Well, at least some of them do. Others stay in the muggle society and have a muggle job."

"But why would they do that?" Harry was confused.

"I can't answer for every person, Harry. People have different reasons for doing the things they do," Dumbledore said.

After a bit of waiting the doors to the room where baggage was picked up opened and several people emerged. There were both Japanese tourists and businessmen coming to England and English people who just returned home from whatever they had been doing in Japan, plus Japanese tourists who was probably going to explore England. Several of them were greeted by friends or travel companies while the rest of them just walked through to get to their respective destinations. Harry could see Dumbledore's face lighten up in a bright smile and he followed the other wizard's look and saw two Japanese people coming their way. The oldest one who looked like he was around 30 wore a dark green shirt and short pants. On his feet he had some strange looking sandals. The younger one of the two looked to be around his own age and had orange hair, which made Harry wonder whether it was bleached or he was a metamophmagus.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Potter," the oldest one said with a slight accent and bowed politely before he shook hands with Dumbledore and proceeded to do the same with Harry who shook it as well. "I am Kisuke Urahara and this is Ichigo Kurosaki." He gestured towards the youngster beside him who also bowed and shook their hands.

"Nice to meet you," he said with a heavy accent.

After introducing himself Urahara opened his trunk and took out a white and green striped hat and placed it on his head. Kurosaki made some comment in Japanese which Harry did not understand.

"Are you ready to go?" Dumbledore asked and made a gesture towards the exit, "I still have some matters to attend to."

The statement earned him a loud groan from the orange-haired boy

* * *

Harry had only done it twice and already he had decided he did not like to apparate. This time Urahara and Kurosaki had been with them, but instead of going to the Burrow, they had landed in what appeared to be a deserted village square. The two guest's baggage had been sent to Dumbledore's house as soon as they had gotten outside public view.

"Are you alright?" Dumbledore asked the other two. Harry thought he didn't need to as they appeared to be unaffected by the action.

"We are quite well," Urahara said, "and I must say, it's an interesting way of traveling."

"Good," Dumbledore said, "this way." He set off in a brisk pace, Harry, Kurosaki, and Urahara in tow.

They turned a corner and Harry looked sideway to the Headmaster. "Professor, er — where exactly are we?"

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton."

"And what are we doing here?"

"Ah yes, of course, I haven't told you. Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. We are here to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."

The young wizard glanced at Urahara who was walking beside them casually. "What about Mr. Urahara, sir? Can he not be a teacher?"

The Japanese man smiled. "I would love to, but I am only staying here until school starts. I am afraid I cannot teach you in the subjects you are used to, and especially not in the subject which you need a new professor for," he answered.

Harry nodded disappointed. He would have liked to be taught Japanese magic.

They proceeded up a steep, narrow street lined with houses. All the windows were dark. The odd chill that had lain over Privet Drive for two weeks persisted here too. Thinking of Dementors, he casted a look over his shoulders and saw Kurosaki who was walking behind him with his hands in his pockets, his eyes half lidded as if he was fighting back sleep.

They kept walking for a while, Harry asked questions and Dumbledore answered. The two Japanese wizards, however, seemed to be quiet, but Harry did not miss Urahara's interested expression.

They were nearing a small neat stone house set in its own garden. As they reached the front gate Dumbledore stopped dead and Harry walked into him. Kurosaki who had been just behind Harry had avoided swiftly and now looked to what the eldest wizard could se. He eyes were narrowed, all tiredness seemingly gone.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear." Dumbledore said.

Harry followed his gaze up the front yard and felt his heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges. Dumbledore glanced up and down the street. It seemed quite deserted. Afterwards he looked to Urahara who closed his fan and tapped his chin with it. His eyes were shadowed by his hat.

"There is one person inside," he said and gave Dumbledore a knowing look, "but I don't know who or how strong that person is. Your kind doesn't have enough reiatsu to determine strength."

Harry wondered how on earth the foreign wizard could tell there was a person inside and what the hell reiatsu was, but had enough sense to wait with his questions till another time. Dumbledore opened the gate and walked swiftly and silently up the garden path, then pushed the front door very slowly, his wand raised and ready. Urahara was right behind him, then himself, and at last Kurosaki.

"Lumos."

When Dumbledore's wand ignited he saw the two Japanese guests glance at it before they disregarded it and followed the old wizard into a room to the left. A scene of total devastation met their eyes. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked, its pendulum lying a little farther away like a dropped sword. A piano was on its side, its keys strewn across the floor. The wreckage of a fallen chandelier flittered nearby. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. Dumbledore raised his wand even higher, so that its light was thrown upon the walls, where something darkly red and glutinous was spattered over the wallpaper. Harry's small intake of breath made him look around.

"Not pretty, is it?," he said heavily, "yes, something horrible has happened here."

Urahara went further into the room, careful not to step on anything, his eyes lain in shadows from his hat. He went over to a wall and inspected the darkly red substance. Then, and Harry could not believe his eyes, Urahara smirked. Something terrible had just happened here and then I smirked? The teenager glanced at Dumbledore to see his reaction.

"What do you say?" Dumbledore asked when Urahara faced him again, his fingers stained with red.

"I say," he started and walked across the room to an overstuffed armchair lying on its side, "that the man we are looking for is still here." He stopped in front of the armchair. "In fact, he is right here," he said and smacked the armchair hard with his fan.

"Auch!" the overstuffed armchair yelled.

"Good evening, Horace," Dumbledore said.

Harry's jaw dropped. Where a split second before there had been an armchair, there now crouched an enormously fat, bald, old man who was massaging his lower belly and squinting up at Urahara with an aggrieved and watery eye.

"There was no need to smack me that hard," he said gruffly and clambered to his feet, "it hurt." He stretched his back and looked at his attacker, inspecting him carefully. "And who might you be, to attack an old, defenseless man like me?"

"Wouldn't it be nice first to introduce yourself," Urahara asked politely with his slight accent.

Dumbledore chuckled and drew the former armchair's attention to him. "Allow me to introduce you to each other. "Mr. Urahara, meet Mr. Horace Slughorn, former professor at Hogwarts and Horace, meet Mr. Kisuke Urahara from Japan, former Captain of the twelfth Divison of the Gotei 13 and the founder of the research and development department in Seiretei."

Urahara bowed and shook hands with a slightly bewildered Slughorn. "Nice to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you, Kisuke," Slughorn said after having regained his wit, "what gave me away?"

Urahara fanned himself smugly. "Your own minimal reiatsu. You can hide, but your presence will still be here. Besides I am quite experienced in the art of illusion myself."

"And my dear Horace," Dumbledore said, "if the Death Eaters really had come to call, the Dark Mark would have been set over the house."

"The Dark Mark," he muttered. "Knew there was something… ah well. Wouldn't have had time anyway, I'd only just put the finishing touches to my upholstery when you entered the room."

He heaved a great sigh that made the ends of his mustache flutter.

"Would you like my assistance clearing up?" Dumbledore asked politely.

"Please."

They stood back to back, the tall thin wizard and the short round one, and waved their wands in one identical sweeping motion.

The furniture flew back to its original places; ornaments re-formed in midair, feathers zoomed into their cushions; torn books repaired themselves as they landed upon their shelves; oil lanterns soared onto side tables and reignited; a vast collection of splintered silver picture frames flew glittering across the room and alighted, whole and untarnished, upon a desk; rips, cracks, and holes healed everywhere, and the walls wiped themselves clean.

With a loud yawn Kurosaki gained everyone's attention and threw himself in the sofa, his eyes closed and posture relaxed as if he had finally come home from a long, tiring day of work as Harry had often seen his Uncle do. Only, Kurosaki was a lot thinner than Vernon.

"I guess he was tired," Harry said and stepped into the room to follow the foreign student's example.

It was then Slughorn noticed Harry.

"Oho," he said. His large round eyes flying from Kurosaki's orange hair he had previously been inspecting to Harry's forehead and the lighting shaped scar it bore. "Oh!"

"This," Dumbledore said and gestured towards Harry, "is Harry Potter. Harry, I'm sure you must have heard me when I introduced before, but just to be clear, I shall introduce you to each other. This is Horace Slughorn, and old friend and colleague of mine." He gestured towards the half-asleep boy in the sofa. "And to Horace, this is Mr. Ichigo Kurosaki from Japan. He is going to attend Hogwarts this year to learn our ways of magic."

Kurosaki sighed heavily, rose from the sofa very slowly as if he was fighting an intense battle with himself, bowed and said, "nice to meet," before he once again threw himself in the sofa.

"Very polite, I see," Slughorn commented and turned to Dumbledore, "so that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus." He pushed past Harry, looking like a man trying to resist temptation.

"I suppose we could have a drink at least," Dumbledore asked, "for old time's sake? And I think my two guests would like to sit down for a moment. They have come a long way."

Slughorn hesitated. "Alright then, one drink."

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and directed him towards a chair. he took the seat with the distinct impression that Dumbledore for some reason wanted to keep him as visible as possible. He then turned around to Urahara who leaned against the wall where blood had been just a few minutes before. He was watching Slughorn and Harry with hidden amusement as if he knew what Dumbledore was up to.

Harry was right. When Slughorn who had been busy with decanters and glasses turned to face the room again his eyes fell immediately upon Harry. He quickly looked away again.

"Here." He gave a drink to Dumbledore and Urahara and trusted the tray to Harry before he sank into the sofa beside Kurosaki. The Japanese boy opened an eye to observe his seat mate, and closed it again after having apparently decided Slughorn wasn't worth his attention. Neither were the drinks.

While Harry listened to the two wizards' conversation he observed Urahara taking out what appeared to be a cell phone from a pocket. He found it strange that a wizard would need an electronic device, but when his own questioning eyes met Urahara's, he just received a smile which told him to save it for later. Harry turned his attention back to the two old wizards who seemed to talk about old times and age. Dumbledore tried to persuade Slughorn into joining the teacher staff yet again, but the former professor refused.

"If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school you can save your breath, Albus. I might have been in hiding but some funny rumors have reached me since Dolores Umbridge left, if that's how you treat teachers these days."

"Professor Umbridge ran afoul of our centaur herd," Dumbledore said, "I think you, Horace, would have known better than to stride into the forest and call a horde of angry centaurs 'filthy half-breeds.'"

"That's what she did, did she," Slughorn said, "idiotic woman. Never liked her."

Harry chuckled and both Dumbledore and Slughorn looked at him. "Sorry," Harry said hastily, "It's just… I didn't like her either."

Suddenly Dumbledore stood up.

"Are you leaving?" Slughorn asked, looking hopeful.

"No, I was wondering whether I might use your bathroom," Dumbledore answered.

"Oh." Slughorn explained the way to him, disappointment smeared across his chubby face.

Once the door had closed behind the headmaster, the fat, old wizard turned towards Urahara.

"What is that thing you have there?" he asked and pointed a finger at the cell phone Urahara had just started texting on again. "I've noticed the muggles use them for communicating."

The foreign man looked at him. "Yes, though these are not electronic devices as the ones the muggles use. They are made with magic and hidden in the form of a cellphone so it's easier for the officers to blend in while receiving an order. We call them denreishinki, but I guess the English translation would be Soul Pager."

"Why not use owls like we do?"

"Not to offend your owls, but they are rather slow. It's vital for an officer of the Seiretei to receive important orders at the time span of a few seconds."

Harry could see Slughorn would like to say more, but the cellphone vibrated and Urahara snapped it open, a smile spreading across his face.

"Yoruichi is here."

As soon as those words had left his mouth, the orange haired boy's eyes widened and he flew up from his comfortable seat in the sofa. In midair he blocked a kick and dodged a punch from an unknown woman who had appeared out of nowhere. Kurosaki landed on the sofa again, having being pushed back by the impact, nut he had landed on his legs, towering up over a startled Slughorn. The woman landed gracefully on the floor with a big smile plastered on her face. Her skin was dark and she had long purple hair put together in a ponytail. But what really caught Harry's attention were her big, yellow eyes which shone with smugness. She said something in Japanese, but the only thing Harry could make out of it was Ichigo. Kurosaki himself answered rather irritably and scowled at the woman before he abruptly sat down again, ignoring Slughorn who was watching the newcomer and Kurosaki with awareness. Unlike before, Kurosaki never dozed off again. It was as if his tiredness had disappeared with the arrival of the young woman. Harry wouldn't judge him. From what he had seen, the newcomer was nowhere near innocent and could attack at any moment.

"Did I miss something?"

Everyone's attention turned to Dumbledore who just stepped into the room. His eyes fell upon the young woman.

"Ahh, Ms. Shihoin I presume." He went over to her and shook her hand.

"Don't call me that Dumbledore-san, just call me Yoruichi," she said and gave him a smile.

"Ms. Yoruichi then."

"Excuse me?" Slughorn said, "but who are you? It is rather rude to just barge into someone's house."

Harry could laugh at the irony while the woman just blinked curiously at Slughorn before she turned her heard towards Dumbledore for some sort of explanation.

"Ahh yes, more introductions." The old Wizard cleared his throat. "This is Yuroichi Shihoin, former captain of the 2nd division of the Gotei 13 and former commander of the Onmitsukido," then added, "is that pronounced correctly?"

"It is," the woman, now known as Shihoin said.

He then proceeded to introduce both Slughorn and Harry

After the introductions Urahara cleared his throat. "Now that the formalities are done, can I get Benihime back, please?"

"Of course, Kisuke," Shihoin said and tossed a cane, which had previously been strapped to her back, to Urahara who caught it perfectly and carefully as if it was his dearest treasure, opened the cane and revealed a sword.

"A sword?" Slughorn exclaimed, worry hidden in his small eyes.

"Yes" Urahara said, inspecting it, "Benihime would unfortunately set off all the alarms at the airport so I had Yoruichi bring it here for me."

"What would you need a sword for?" Slughorn said and eyed the blade suspiciously. Harry could tell he did not trust the stranger at all.

"What would you need a wand for?" Urahara remarked, "while it is true that I am perfectly capable of using spells without her, Benihime is a part of me. Not to mention that she also serves as a cane." He smiled innocently.

Harry was confused, though he did understand the part that the sword was very dear to the foreign wizard. "You mean," he said, "the sword can use spells?"

"Yes, I believe that is what I said, though it is not all Zanpakutou who has that ability. It depends on the user's personality."

The young wizard did not feel any more clever than before. Urahara's answers explained questions but new ones popped up his head afterwards. Like, what did he mean by getting orders from that cell phone? Or what exactly a zanpakutou was besides swords, and why only some of them had the ability to perform spells. Wouldn't they just be normal muggle swords, then? There were so many questions Harry wanted to ask when the subject changed.

"Would you like to sit down and have something to drink?" Dumbledore asked Shihoin and gestured towards the small table.

"No thanks," she said and yawned, "I better get going, I have many things to take care of at home now that Kisuke is here."

"Understood. Though I suppose this room is too small so it would be better to set up the portal outside."

"Agreed," Urahara said and closed his cane, "it's better to do it outside. Kurosaki-san would you come with us?"

"No," was the short response he got. And that earned Kurosaki a smack in the head from Shihoin. Her face was turned up in a smug catlike grin. Kurosaki groaned and got up while he muttered something in Japanese which Harry was sure included a lot of curse words.

Everyone left except Slughorn and Harry. Harry had a feeling it was Dumbledore's schemes which had brought him in this position.

* * *

Ichigo drew in the cold night air. He could not see why he was dragged up from the nice and warm sofa and out into this cold night. Hell, he couldn't even see the senkaimon for crying out loud, so why the need for him to get up? However, he had a feeling that Dumbledore wanted Harry to be alone with that fat, old teacher. He couldn't care less, it was not his business.

He yawned. The jetlag was really getting to him. Oh, how he wished he could have slept just like Urahara on the plane. If he had, he wouldn't have been this tired right now. He felt slightly dizzy as if he was standing on an escalator, and his senses and reactions had slowed down a great deal. Yoruichi had taken it easy on him when she attacked earlier, and that was the only reason he had been able to block her attempts. Damn, this human body was nowhere near as good as his spirit body. Sure he knew how to fight and sure his body was way above normal human speed, but it still needed to sleep.

("Yosh Ichigo, I'm leaving now,") Yoruichi said to him in Japanese.

("Goodbye then,") he answered half-hearted and suppressed a yawn before dodging a kick to his abdomen.

("Is that how you say goodbye?")

("Says the one who just tried to kick me,") he mumbled, ("just get going already. Weren't you supposed to hurry up and get home?")

("Cheeky boy.)" The cat woman's face lit up in a smile. ("Just take care of yourself, will ya?") She pointed a thump backwards at Urahara. ("And make sure the fool doesn't make any stupid experiments here. Knowing him he would cause quite the ruckus.")

"Oi!" Urahara said, looking quite offended.

Ichigo suppressed a laugh and watched Yoruichi turn her back and disappear into the senkaimon. Of course he couldn't see it, but he knew it was there.

"Well," Dumbledore said and broke the silence which had fallen upon them, "I think Harry and Horace might be done with their talking now. Mr. Kurosaki, would you mind fetching Harry?"

"Hai." The teenager shrugged and went inside again.

Slughorn jumped up startled when Ichigo entered the living room.

"Where is Albus and Kisuke?" the wizard asked and looked behind Ichigo to get a glimpse of the two.

The former Shinigami representative shrugged and stopped his hands in his pockets. "They are outside. They asked me to get Harry. I think we are leaving."

The young wizard jumped to his feet. Apparently he, like Ichigo, had had enough of being in this overstuffed room anymore.

"Leaving?" Slughorn said surprised, "already?"

"Yes," Ichigo answered and moved to get his jacket from the sofa where he had left it. He didn't say anymore which left Slughorn fidgeting in his seat.

"Oh well… Goodbye then," the fat wizard said.

"Sayonara." Ichigo waved a hand over his shoulder and left the living room.

"Bye," Potter said and followed him out

They had just gotten outside with Urahara and Dumbledore when Slughorn came rushing out.

"Alright, alright I'll do it," he said breathless. Apparently the physical activity had been hard on him.

Dumbledore's arched his eyebrows. "You will come out of retirement?"

"Yes, yes, Slughorn said impatiently, "I must be mad, but yes."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore said, "then Horace, we shall see you on the 1st of September."

"Yes, I dare say you will," Slughorn responded, "I want a pay rise"

The headmaster chuckled and led his companions outside the front yard. They walked for a bit, Dumbledore talked to Potter, praising him for persuading Slughorn into joining the staff at Hogwarts again. Ichigo wondered what the boy had done,while fighting off the tiredness which had once again lain over him. When they came to the church Dumbledore stopped.

"This will do," he said, "before I leave you at the Burrow, Harry, would you mind if I dropped off Mr. Urahara and Mr. Kurosaki? I have something to discuss with you which I am sure our guests would find very boring." He glanced at Ichigo who was in the middle of a big yawn. "And perhaps they would also like some rest."

Potter nodded.

"But of course you are still coming with us," Dumbledore smiled, "we cannot leave you here alone, especially not in these dark times."

Potter sighed deeply and Ichigo had a feeling the boy did not like to apparate.

* * *

Dumbledore had left again with Potter so now Ichigo and Urahara stood alone in the darkness of the headmaster's home. When shown his room, hw did not even bother turning on the light or even undress himself. Instead he threw himself on the bed with a deep sigh, finally able to get some sleep, now having been deprived it for about 30 hours.

* * *

**Now, I hope you don't think Ichigo is OOC because of the Jetlag I gave him. I simply just described it as I felt it when I went to Japan last summer. You know, being forced to walk around when not having slept for that long is torture! Trust me! One of my friends actually threw up because of it. **

**And for those who are wondering, the flight time from Narita International Airport in Japan, which lies about an hour by train outside Tokyo, to Heathrow in England is about 11 hours without intermediate landings. With an intermediate landing the flight time is longer. **


	3. 500 Days of Summer

**A/N: **_**FINALLY! **_**I know I took a really long time with this chapter, but as it sometimes happens I had major writer's block plus I was really busy with school before summer holiday. But here it is, chapter 2.**

**Enjoy xD**

_**-(500) Days of Summer-**_

About 10 hours later Ichigo woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs. He blinked and slowly drew his breath in before letting it out again. He rolled over so he was lying on his back and stretched his tired body which had lain in the same position all night. For 5 minutes he just laid there trying to comprehend the situation he was in. He had finally come to England, he was going to attend as magic school, but most importantly, he was going to get new power! His lips turned upwards in a smug grin. _Finally._ Then nature called and he bailed for the bathroom.

* * *

If he was nervous he certainly didn't show it, Albus Dumbledore concluded. Their new student Kurosaki sat beside him looking bored, but the headmaster could tell he was quite aware of everything going on by the way he held himself. They and Kisuke Urahara were currently waiting for the rest of the teachers of Hogwarts to apparate to their location at The Three Broomsticks where Madam Rosmerta had provided them with butterbeer and an extended table. He had decided this was the best place for them to hold the meeting since his own house wasn't big enough for all of them. He only used his house during summer so he saw no reason to have that much space.

The first one of the teachers to open the door into the Three Broomsticks and step in were Professor Minerva McGonagall. Her eyes widened upon seeing the two foreigners, but nonetheless she sat down on the other side of Albus without uttering a word. She did, however, cast a curious glance at the two strangers.

Soon after the rest of the teachers filled in-except Firenze who had obvious reasons not to attend. Dumbledore smiled at them as they had all turned their attention to him, looking for an explanation. Horace Slughorn smiled friendly at the two, instantly recognizing them.

"This is Kisuke Urahara and his student Ichigo Kurosaki from Japan," the headmaster introduced and pointed to each of them with his hand*.They both bowed in their seats. Afterwards he introduced each of the teachers and the subjects they were teaching to the foreigners. "Mr. Urahara contacted me earlier this year regarding that his student, Mr. Kurosaki could attend Hogwarts for a year to learn our ways of magic and culture since it is very different from his own."

"But**-"** said Minerva.

Albus raised his hand and the deputy headmistress fell silent.

"I have of course already informed Mr. Urahara and Mr. Kurosaki of the conflict currently going on in our country; nonetheless Mr. Kurosaki has agreed to attend. I believe he should be as safe as any other student within the walls of Hogwarts. There is, however, a problem and that is also the reason why I have called you all here instead of just sending you a letter." He paused to observe the teachers reaction before he continued. "Mr. Kurosaki has never before used a wand."

"What?" Several of the teachers erupted.

"Is he even a wizard?" Professor Severus Snape said and looked the strange boy and his teacher suspiciously. The others agreed with his question.

"As Dumbledore-san said," Urahara spoke "our ways of magic is different thus we do not have wands. We do, however, have something else."

"And what is that?" Minerva inquired.

The former captain of 12th division looked at her, his eyes shadowed by his hat. "For me to explain you must understand that the Japanese culture is very different from your own. Us magicians have never been hunted down and burned by the muggles. Instead we have mostly defended muggles from various youkai –Japanese monsters- and have always been respected by the people we have helped. As such, our spells were developed in order to destroy monsters and never for our own convenience. Those spells requires no wands, though some of them might need some equipment."

"I couldn't have explained it better myself," said Albus cheerfully, "that is why Mr. Kurosaki here needs help to catch up to the 6th years in usage of wands."

"6th year?" Minerva repeated shocked, "but that's on N.E.W.T level. There is no way he can catch up on all the subjects during summer holiday."

The others agreed with her, muttering and nodding to each other before looking back at their headmaster and the two foreigners.

"Of course he does not have to catch up on all the subjects," Albus assured them, "only transfiguration, charms, and defense against the dark arts."

"Still," Minerva said, "it is impossible for him to catch up. I expect a lot from my students and some child can simply not just walk in and learn everything during such a short time."

"I'm sure you will find Kurosaki-san more than capable of catching up," Urahara said with a smirk, "he did, after all, achieve Bankai in three days. A technique who is only reached be the few and usually takes around ten years to accomplish."

Albus didn't miss the look on Horace's face. No doubt he was going to add Kurosaki to his lists of favorites.

"Well." The center of the discussion finally decided to say something. "It's not like I had ten years at my disposal. I only had three days. Three days I got, three days I use. A summer vacation I got, a summer vacation I use. Simple."

"Also," Albus added, "if we skip all the assignments and essays, I'm sure it will take less time."

He observed the teachers, confused as they were. He himself had no doubt about Mr. Urahara's words.

Minerva sighed and leaned back in her chair in surrender. "Very well then, if he can learn the spells I will be willing to teach him in my class."

The headmaster looked at Professor Filius Flitwick, waiting for his answer. The small wizard just nodded.

Then everyone aside from Kurosaki turned their eyes to Severus in expectation. He could very well be the one to turn him down despite what Albus had said.

The new defense against the dark arts teacher drew a long breath as if thinking before he eventually spoke. "If that is what you wish, I will teach him."

"Great," Albus chimed, "I'll have him ready by school start."

* * *

Diagon Alley seemed sad and not what Ichigo had expected from a shopping street. In fact, the place looked rather cold and big, violet posters were plastered everywhere. They were from the ministry, explaining what to do in these dark times.

"Sad isn't it?" Dumbledore marked, "Diagon Alley used to be filled with life."

The teenager didn't say anything, but instead followed after the headmaster and Urahara who, like the other few people on the streets, walked fast without stopping to chat. However, he did notice that as soon as people saw Dumbledore they relaxed a bit and greeted the old wizard with a smile. It appeared strange to Ichigo how one man could mean so much for people's morale, but he had been told that Albus Dumbledore was the only one Voldemort feared. He concluded the man had to be very strong, even if he was old.

After having walked a bit, they stepped into a little shop. The sigh outside said _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. _In the middle of the room, a boy who looked to be around Ichigo's age was standing together with an elderly witch who had turned around at the sound of the doorbell.

"Dumbledore," she exclaimed with a smile, "what brings you here. Problems with the wand?"

"No, my wand is working perfectly, Augusta." Dumbledore answered. "It's Mr. Kurosaki here who is the costumer. He's from Japan and is going to attend Hogwarts this year together with the 6th years."

"Really?" said the witch and looked at Ichigo, "my grandson Neville is also a 6th year.

Ichigo presumed she meant the boy who was being measured by a measuring-tape which was apparently working on its own. Suddenly a little white-haired wizard appeared with a small box in his hands. His eyes fell interestingly on Ichigo.

"Another costumer I see," the wizard said and introduced himself as Ollivander. He gave the box to the other boy and swiped the measuring tape out of the air, starting to measure Ichigo's arm length. After having measured a lot of other lengths he asked him a couple of question before he turned to the other costumer again. "Mr. Longbottom, don't just stand there, try your wand."

The boy blinked as if having just woken up from a dream. He swung the wand and a vase, which was standing in the corner of the shop on a small table, exploded. Ichigo stared at it in shock, wondering what Ollivander's reaction would be. To his surprise the small wizard just took the wand from Longbottom and put it back in the box before he left again.

"Does that happen every time?" the orange-haired teenager asked.

"Yes," Longbottom answered, "if a wand is not compatible with the user, it reacts badly."

Ichigo nodded in understanding. It made sense that the wand and user had to match, just like with a Zanpaku-tô.

"So," the boy drawled, "you are going to attend Hogwarts this year?"

"Yes."

"And you are from Japan?"

Ichigo nodded.

"Cool. What's it like?"

"What?"

"You know… What is your school like?"

"Oh, well, I attend a muggle school."

The boy's eyes widened. "A muggle school? Why?"

Ichigo shrugged. "I have to learn how to read and write, don't I? But I'll probably go to Shinou** Academy later."

"So you have never done magic before?"

"Of course I have. I was just never taught it professionally. I was… sort of thrown into it."

"Sounds complicated."

"Believe me, it is."

Ollivander appeared with two boxes and gave one to each of the boys. Hesitating Ichigo took the wand in his hand and did as Longbottom had done before him: he swung it. Several boxes flew out from the shelves and made a huge mess on the floor.

"Isn't it hard," Longbottom said when the old wand maker had left again to find some new wands for them to try, "being a wizard and attend a muggle school?"

"It's okay," Ichigo said, "I'm not the only one. Six of my classmates have what you would call magical powers."

Ollivander appeared with two new wands but the result was the same as before.

"So, anything about the teachers I need to know?" Ichigo asked, "Like whom not to piss off?"

"Definitely Snape. He's the potions professor. He's really mean and favorites anyone from Slytherin."

Ichigo frowned. Wasn't Snape the defense against the dark arts teacher? Perhaps he had remembered wrong.

"McGonagall is pretty strict too, but she's always fair," Longbottom continued. "The rest of the professors are okay, but they are still professors so they demand respect."

The two teenagers continued their conversation, Ichigo asking questions about the school and Longbottom answering them while Ollivander made them try different wands. The school was very weird Ichigo concluded. Moving stairs, living paintings etc. but to the other teenager it was just normal. He would probably feel the same way if the former Shinigami substitute told him about how things worked in Soul Society.

"Here you go," Ollivander said after the 15th wand had responded negatively to the orange-haired boy's touch, "14 inches, blackthorn and with a core of werewolf hair."

Ichigo paled. "Werewolf?"t

"Yes, but don't worry. He was under the effect of the Wolfsbane potion while I took the hair, so I was perfectly safe."

He wasn't sure whether one could be safe around a werewolf or not, but then again, Ichigo was new to the magical world, and the Wolfsbane potion sounded like some kind of medicine. So deciding the old wand maker had had control of the situation, he reached out to take the wand.

As soon as his skin touched the wood, he felt warmth coming from it, and when he took hold of it, the heat intensified and he was completely filled with a feeling of mutual connection with the wand. It was almost like when he had first held Zangetsu.

"Brilliant!" Ollivander exclaimed happily, clapping his hands in excitement "I _knew_ it was this one." He turned to his other costumer, "Now, we just need to find you one, Mr. Longbottom." He left again.

"Werewolf?" the black-haired boy marked, "I've never heard of anyone having a core of that before."

Ichigo didn't answer. He was inspecting his wand carefully. One step closer to power. Soon, he could protect his friends.

Shortly after, Ollivander had also found a wand for Longbottom. 13 inches, cherry wood, and with a core of unicorn hair.

After having purchased the wand he smiled at Ichigo. "I guess we'll see each other as Hogwarts, then."

Ichigo nodded. "Probably."

* * *

It seemed strange to him how such a small object could conjure such strong spells like instant death or what was worse. Wait, now that Ichigo thought about it, instant death was practically a good thing because that meant no physical pain. He doubted it would work on hollows, but still, it was a good thing to know how it worked if a human was ever threatening his friends.

"Are you ready?" Dumbledore asked, his own wand drawn. Ichigo nodded. "Then let me show you one of the simplest spells which are taught in first year. Repeat after me: Wingardium Leviosa."

"Wingardiumu Leviosa," Ichigo said, during is best to say the foreign words.

"No, no, no." Dumbledore shook his head. Wingardium, not wingardiumu. No vowel after the m."

The former substitute Shinigami frowned. It was really hard to not add a vowel after an English word. Why did it have to be so hard to pronounce?

He tried again, this time it sounded a tad better, but his pronunciation was still horrible. He tried again, and again, and again until the old wizard was finally satisfied.

"Now, do like me, swish and flick."

Ichigo did as he was told, his wand flying perfectly through the air in an exact copy of Dumbledore's movement.

The old wizard smiled. "Looks like you don't really have to practice how to swing it. It seems like it come completely natural to you. Now, we just have to focus on the pronunciations of the words and I think you'll do well. Try saying it again."

"Wingadium Leviosa."

"Perfect," Dumbledore chimed, "I think you can try the spell now. Just say the words and point your wand at the feather in front of you. Remember to swish and flick."

Ichigo did exactly as he had been told and pointed the wand towards the feather, saying the needed words.

Nothing happened.

"Oh well, it doesn't work the first time, try again."

Again, nothing happened.

Ichigo scowled. Stupid magic. Why did it have to be so difficult? Then again, he wasn't one to back down from a challenge.

When he hadn't succeeded in getting even the smallest reaction out of the wand after having done nothing but swishing and flicking for about an hour he began to wonder if he was really able to use magic. He had read that something called squibs existed in the magic world, and now he was contemplating whether he might be one.

"So how did it go?" Urahara asked from where he was sitting in the small kitchen, enjoying a cup of tea while reading the newspaper.

Ichigo sighed heavily and sat down beside him. "It's doesn't work. Do you think I might be a squib?" They were speaking English since all Japanese had been banned as long as they were staying at Dumbledore's in order for the teenager to practice his heavily accented Japanese.

Urahara chuckled. "I can assure you, you are not a squib. The wand chose you, that means you have some magic in you."

"And you know everything about wands?"

"Dumbledore-san told me."

Ichigo shrugged. "Then I must be doing something wrong."

"Probably. Or you are just really untalented."

He chose not to comment on that one.

* * *

After lunch they resumed the spell-practicing. However, this time Urahara had joined them. He was standing to the side intently watching as Ichigo tried the spell in vain.

After several failed attempts the shopkeeper decided to step in and help. He had an idea of what was wrong.

"Try doing it like you do a Getsuga," he said, "I think the basics might be the same."

Ichigo blinked. He hadn't tried that. He had just thought it would work with just saying the word and doing some wand movements, but apparently that was not the case. He could see that now after all his failed attempts.

He closed his eyes, imagining he held his beloved Zanpaku-tô in his hand instead of the fragile stick called a wand. "Wingardium Leviosa," he said instead of the usual 'Getsuga Tenshou 'when he opened his eyes.

The feather floated up from the table a few centimeters from Ichigo's wand. It followed the motion he made with his wand and a wide grin broke out in the young wizard's face.

He had done it.

He turned to look at his teachers. Both of them gave him their approving nods.

* * *

After Ichigo had cracked the code to use spells, the speed he was going through them was remarkable. He only needed to pronounce the words correctly and he was able to do the spell on the first try. Soon, he had waltzed through the first and second year spells as if they were nothing, which for him, they weren't.

Urahara smirked to himself. He just knew the former Shinigami substitute would succeed. The boy had an unusual talent. Even Dumbledore said that when he nailed the 3rd year spells. His English did also get a lot better from when he had first landed in Heathrow. Sure, there was still an accent, but Kurosaki did no longer add an extra vowel after each consonant.

Soon it was time for the shopkeeper to go back to Japan and inform Kurosaki Isshin that his son was doing well.

* * *

***It's considered very rude to point at people with a finger in Japan.**

****The Spiritual arts academy. Or shinigami academy. Shinou is the Japanese name. **


	4. Strangers on a Train

**A/N: First of all: I'm sorry it took me so long to write this chapter, but the truth is I do not own a copy of the book in English, only in Danish… and sometimes I need to quite what people are saying in the book. Up till now I had used the audio books that were on youtube but they have all been removed. Luckily I found a way to get the quotes and you got this chapter xD**

**Hopefully it aint going to be such a long time before the next update**

* * *

_-Strangers on a Train-_

Platform 9¾ was stuffed with nervous parents, excited children, and an abundance of luggage for an entire school year. In the middle of it all stood Ichigo with his own trunk, without really knowing what to do with himself. He knew he should board the train and drive the entire day to northern Scotland where Hogwarts was placed… However, he had no idea about where he should sit; if there were special seats to the different years, or if he should just drop down beside some kids who looked to be around his age and then hope the best. With an inwardly shrug he admitted that he might as well board the train and see what happened. Barging in in the middle of it all without having some kind of plan was, after all, his preferred style. So he grabbed the handle of his trunk, stepped up into the train, and then he would take it from there.

He walked down the aisle, hoping to find something that could lead him to a seat or perhaps an empty compartment, but he didn't get far before a familiar voice stopped him.

"Ichigo."

The former shinigami substitute turned around and saw Slughorn popping his head out of the compartment he had just walked by. _Strange._ Dumbledore had said most of the teachers apparated to Hogsmeade instead of riding the train.

"Why don't you come in?" the fat wizard asked, "there's plenty of space in here, if you don't have anywhere else to sit of course," he added.

He hadn't, and even if he was a little reluctant to share a compartment with a teacher, it was nice that Slughorn wasn't prejudiced because of Ichigo's hair colour. So he took him up on his offer and joined him.

"Well, Ichigo," Slughorn began when the teenager had sat down in front of him, "I hear you spent the entire summer at Albus' place. How did it go?"

"Well, fine, I think."

"Did you really catch up in all the subjects?"

Ichigo could hear the conductor whistle and shortly after felt the train set into motion. "Well, it was only in Defense against the dark arts, transfiguration, and charms. I didn't have a chance to learn the rest because they take considerably more time to do."

"But you really did go through the entire syllabus for 5 years in those subjects?"

"Yes."

Slughorn's eyes widened.

"But," Ichigo added, "I've promised to read up on the correct use of the different spells and such."

Slughorn nodded. "Yes, well, it's a shame you don't take potions. That's my subject, you see. I would have enjoyed having such a talented student in my class."

Ichigo wasn't really sure he would be good at potions. He could do magic with a wand perfectly, but the thing about being calm and do things in a certain order wasn't exactly his cup of tea.

"You wouldn't mind if I did my homework, would you?" Ichigo asked, "unfortunately I still have to do my homework from high school when I spend my time here."

The professor didn't have a problem with that, and soon the former shinigami substitue was doing his math homework. Summer homework was annoying, but he might as well do it now and make use of the very long trip. He knew he would get more homework sent by his friends. The teachers from High school thought he was attending an English school, which wasn't a lie, but they didn't know it was magic that was being taught. And if he didn't study by himself, he would be hopelessly behind everyone else when he came back. He did, however, think he would be the top student in English. He grinned smugly. When he got home he would outdo even the teacher in that particular subject.

"That looks complicated," Slughorn remarked and watched Ichigo write up mathematical calculations.

"It's not so bad, actually," the teenager muttered, "you don't have math as a subject in Hogwarts, do you?"

"No," the fat wizard answered, "that's something muggles use. Magic can't be explained by simple mathematics. But most parents do teach their children the basic rules of math like how to put two and two together."

Ichigo nodded. They probably didn't have physics either. Magic did not abide by the laws of physics.

After some times with silence the professor cleared his throat. Ichigo looked up from his second degree equations questioningly.

"I was wondering if you brought your own lunch," he asked casually.

"Nope, Dumbledore said I could buy something on the train, so I was pretty much counting on that."

"Oh yes, that's true." Slughorn smiled as if he'd forgotten. "I think the trolley is too loaded with sweats to my taste, though. So I brought my own lunch. I was wondering if you would like some."

Saying no to free food was definitely not Ichigo's style, so it was naturally a big yes from him.

"I hope you don't mind if I also invite some other student's to dine with us. I'm sure you would like to meet someone your own age."

Before Ichigo could respond, Slughorn had withdrawn a couple rolls of parchment from out of nowhere, and with an easiness which shouldn't have been possible for a man his size, stood up from his seat. "If you'll excuse me for a bit," he said and left the compartment, leaving behind a speechless Ichigo.

Shrugging, he returned to his homework which was surprisingly easer to make without the other man's company. One thing he had to admit though, was that Slughown definitely was different than any other teacher he had met before. Okay, Ochi-sensei was in a league of her own while Slughorn seem too friendly, and it was certainly not every day you were called by you first name by a teacher.

Approximately ten minutes later Slughorn stepped into the compartment followed by a red-haired girl who looked like she didn't really know what she was doing there. He introduced her as Ginny Weasley. She sat down in a corner and watched Slughorn, a bit insecure.

Shortly after they got company in the form of a tall black boy with high cheek bones, a skinny boy who looked very nervous, a large youth and at last, after some time, two familiar faces he recognized to be Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. He nodded when they stepped in; acknowledging them, but his gesture was quickly drowned in an exuberant greeting from Slughorn.

"Harry, m'boy!" Slughorn said, jumping up at the sight of him so that his great velvet-covered belly seemed to fill all the remaining space in the compartment. His shiny bald head and great silvery mustache gleamed as brightly in the sunlight as the golden buttons on his waistcoat. "Good to see you, good to see you! And you must be Mr. Longbottom!"

At a gesture from Slughorn they sat down opposite of each other on the only two free seats which were closets to the door. Ichigo had packet away his homework long before the two boys had shown up to make space for everyone.

"Now, do you know everyone?" Slughorn asked Harry and Neville. "Blaise Zabini is in your year, of course –"

The black boy who had been introduced as Zabini showed no sign of recognition. Neither did Longbottom or Potter.

"This is Cormac McLaggen, perhaps you've come across each other —? No?"

McLaggen, a large, wiry-haired youth, raised a hand, and Harry and Neville nodded back at him.

"—and this is Marcus Belby, I don't know whether —?"

Belby, who was thin and nervous-looking, gave a strained smile.

"— and this charming young lady tells me she knows you!" Slughorn finished.

Ichigo could see her grimacing to them, but he could not decipher whether it was meant as a smile or some sort of recognition.

"And this is Ichigo Kurosaki. Harry, I knew you met him during the summer, but what about you Mr. Longbottom?"

"Yes," Longbottom muttered, "I met him in Diagon Alley."

"Well now, this is most pleasant," Slughorn said cozily. "A chance to get to know you all a little better. Here, take a napkin. I've packed my own lunch; the trolley, as I remember it, is heavy on liquorice wands, and a poor old man's digestive system isn't quite up to such things… Pheasant, Belby?"

Belby started and accepted what looked like half a cold pheasant.

"I was just telling young Marcus here that I had the pleasure of teaching his Uncle Damocles," Slughorn told Potter and Longbottom, now passing around a basket of rolls. "Outstanding wizard, outstanding, and his Order of Merlin most well-deserved. Do you see much of your uncle, Marcus?"

Unfortunately, Belby had just taken a large mouthful of pheasant; in his haste to answer Slughorn he swallowed too fast, turned purple, and began to choke.

"Anapneo," said Slughorn calmly, pointing his wand at Belby, whose airway seemed to clear at once.

"Not… not much of him, no," the boy gasped, his eyes streaming.

"Well, of course, I daresay he's busy," Slughorn said, looking questioningly at Belby. "I doubt he invented the Wolfsbane Potion without considerable hard work!"

"I suppose…" Belby said, who seemed afraid to take another bite of pheasant until he was sure that Slughorn had finished with him. "Er… he and my dad don't get on very well, you see, so I don't really know much about…"

His voice tailed away as Slughorn gave him a cold smile and turned to McLaggen instead.

"Now, you, Cormac," Slughorn said, "I happen to know you see a lot of your Uncle Tiberius, because he has a rather splendid picture of the two of you hunting nogtails in, I think, Norfolk?"

"Oh, yeah, that was fun, that was," McLaggen said, "we went with Bertie Higgs and Rufus Scrimgeour; this was before he became Minister, obviously —"

"Ah, you know Bertie and Rufus too?" Slughorn beamed, now offering around a small tray of pies; somehow, Belby was missed out. "Now tell me…"

Ichigo frowned but no one seemed to notice because of his usual scowl. Slughorn's reaction was strange. Ichigo had thought the man was interested in getting to know the students, but apparently not everyone.

As time went by and the fat wizard moved on to "interview" the other students, it occurred to Ichigo that everyone who was invited knew someone with influence. Everyone besides the Weasley who was sitting in the corner.

Zabini's mom was known as a beautiful witch who had been married 7 times, and every time her husbands had died in mysterious ways and left her a significant amount of money.

Longbottom's parents had been well-known Aurors who had been tortured into insanity by Death Eaters. It was clear that the boy did not like talking about it, and would rather disappear into a small hole as Slughorn continued to ask him uncomfortable questions.

"Well, Ichigo," Slughorn said after he was done with Longbottom, "what does your parent's do?"

"My dad is a doctor," he said simply.

"Doctor? As in a muggle healer?"

Ichigo nodded. "Yes, he gave up being a captain when he met my mom, but he still wanted to help people, so he became a doctor."

"Aha. Well, you will have to excuse me if I'm asking a stupid question now, but what is a captain?"

"Err." Ichigo scratched his hair as he thought about the best way possible to explain what a captain was without revealing too much. "Our system is very different from yours. Where your society is more civil ours is more militaristic which means that-" He spent the next couple of minutes explaining how Seireitei was split into divisions, captains, and so on. He didn't mention what exactly their job entailed though.

Slughorn smiled warmly when Ichigo was done. "And you have plans to become a captain one day?"

The orange-haired teenager shrugged and leaned back in his seat. "Maybe, maybe not. I'll see what happens," he answered truthfully. Right now he didn't have any shinigami powers, but perhaps when he died, he would gain some of them back. He could always hope.

"Of course, you are young and have plenty of time to decide. That's what I always say: live life while you are young."

Then Slughorn turned to Harry Potter, the boy who lived. It was clear that he was the one the professor was most interested in. Ichigo had heard about him from Dumbledore and about how he continuously had fought against the dark lord, and about how he was now considered the new hope against the evil wizard. There were rumors circulating that Potter was destined to be the one who killed Voldemort. And that was exactly what Slughorn asked Potter, but Potter's friends, Longbottom and Weasley denied everything concerning any prophecy. Apparently they had been with him in the department of mysteries this summer.

The rest of the afternoon passed by with anecdotes about successful wizards and witches who had all had the pleasure of being students of Slughorn's and members of the Slug Club.

It wasn't until the train emerged from yet another long misty stretch into a red sunset that Slughorn looked around, blinking in the twilight. "Good gracious, it's getting dark already! I didn't notice that they'd lit the lamps! You'd better go and change into your robes, all of you. McLaggen, you must drop by and borrow that book on nogtails. Harry, Blaise — any time you're passing. Same goes for you, miss." He twinkled at the girl. "Well, off you go, off you go!"

When all the guests had left, Slughorn turned to Ichigo. "You'd better get dressed in your school robes too, Ichigo, you don't want to get a detention on your first evening, do you?"

No he did not.

* * *

When they arrived at Hogsmeade, Slughorn informed Ichigo that the first years would usually sail across the lake in small boats, but since Ichigo was going to be in 6th year, it was better if he took the carriages like the rest of the students. That seemed to be fair in the teenagers eyes as he would most likely feel quite awkward sitting in s a small boat surrounded by children much younger than himself.

When they came to the carriages which were being flooded by the excited students, Ichigo stopped dead in his tracks. In front of the carriages stood some kind of dark horses with skeletal bodies, faces with reptilian features, and wide, leathery wings.

His escort noticed his stop and arched an eyebrow at the teenager's stunned expression.

"You can see them?"

"Of course I can see them, they are right there!"

"They are called Thestrals, and not everyone can see them. They are only visible to those who have seen death."

Seen death? That would be in understatement in his case.

The ride op to Hogwarts went with Slughorn speaking about… something. Ichigo didn't really bother with paying attention to the old, fat wizard and was instead beginning to wonder what was for dinner.

When they got off the carriages, he followed the flock of students into the castle together with Slughorn. They came to a big hall with four long tables that were quickly filled with smiling and happy students, and a table where the teachers were sitting. Candles were floating around under the roof which looked like the night sky outside.

"It is enchanted," Slughorn said when he saw what Ichigo was looking at, "it is supposed to look like the sky outside. A fantastic weather forecast if you ask me. Well, you'd better follow me to the teacher's table for now. The first years are supposed to be sorted before you."

And so he did that. He could feel how several curious gazes drilled into his neck as he went over to the table and disappeared in the shadows.

After everybody had sat down, McGonagall arrived with a stool and an old hat, followed by what he assumed were the first years. She put the stool in the middle of the floor and put the hat on top of it.

Then the hat started singing.

Ichigo stared at it in disbelief. _A singing hat?_ Who the hell came up with that?

It was singing something about standing your ground and work together against enemies. Everything sounded pretty reasonable in his ears. Without friends he would never have gotten as far as he had.

When the hat was done, McGonagall drew out a long list and started to read up names. However, she was interrupted shortly when the doors into the great hall opened and a giant man stepped in with an apologetic smile on his face. He sat down quickly on a chair by the teacher's table that looked like it was designed especially for him. McGonagall looked at him with disapproval before she started reading the names out loud again.

One by one the small first year students sat down on the stool and put the hat on their heads when their name was called. There they sat; some for a short while and some a bit longer; until the hat had decided which house the student should be placed in. Of course its decision had to be yelled out to everyone and everybody. With red ears and relief painted across their faces, they put the hat back on the stool and skipped nervously down to the table which were clapping and hooting as if they were spectators to a soccer game. He noticed the emblem on their robe changed color to match the house they were put in.

At last the last student had been sorted and Dumbledore stood up. Everyone became silent and Ichigo swore that if one dropped a pin, it would sound like thunder when it hit the floor.

"As some of you may have noticed," the headmaster began, "we have gotten some company in the form of Ichigo Kurosaki from Japan. In a minute he too will be sorted into a house like all of you. He has come here as an exchange student to learn our culture and our way of practicing magic. I expect you to treat him as any other student of Hogwarts'." Dumbledore turned to Ichigo next. "Please sit down on the stool and put on the hat.

With everyone's eyes on him, the former shinigami substitute on current Hogwarts student walked over to the stool and did like all the first years.

"_Interesting,"_ A voice said in his ear, "_most interesting. I see courage and bravery in you, my boy, and that alone would have been enough to send you directly to Gryffindor, but…_" The hat paused shortly, as if thinking before it spoke to him again. _"You've come for a reason, am I correct?"_

"Yes," he answered in a low voice. He didn't want the others to hear what he was saying. "I need power."

"_In that case Gryffindor is not the place for you. However, there is another house I'm sure will fit you quite well. It is true that cunning and traditionalism are not of your qualities, but resourcefulness, ambition, and power is. Yes, there is no doubt that you belong in-_

_**SLYTHERIN!"**_ it bellowed and the table to the far left broke into clapping and rejoicing while the other tables looked crestfallen.

It was an indescribable strange feeling Ichigo had as he took off the hat and walked down to the Slytherin table. Once again he felt how eyes drilled into his neck, this time harder than before. Previously they were of curiosity, but this time the glares were filled with disappointment and detest.

It didn't really face him though. From what he had understood Slytherin was the place to get strong, and that was exactly what he needed. The purpose with his year here was to become stronger as he one again would be able to protect his friends, not matter the price. And if he had to live with the fact that a bunch of spoiled brats did not like him, then he couldn't really care less.

He sat down beside Blaise Zabini who had also been one of Slughorn's guests in the compartment earlier that day. The dark-skinned boy greeted him with a nod.

"And now," Dumbledore said," let us begin the feast!"

At once all the plates were filled to the brim with all kinds of food, and Ichigo quickly filled his plate with something that looked like rice. How he had missed it.

"So you are from Japan?" said a blonde boy who was sitting opposite of him."

Ichigo arched an eyebrow. "That should be clear, shouldn't it? And who are you?"

"Oh, excuse me for not introducing myself first, my name is Draco Malfoy. He reached out his hand.

Ichigo took it. "Ichigo Kurosaki."

"For a moment I actually though you were another Weasley," the boy said scornfully, "but of course, if you had been one of them you wouldn't be here in Slytherin. Besides, your hair is more orange; one would almost think you were a metamorphmagus."

"Yes, but I am not."

"I thought people from Japan had black or brown hair," a girl said. She was sitting beside the Malfoy boy and introduced herself as Pansy Parkinson.

"That is correct, and they don't like people who look just a little bit different," ichigo told them sourly.

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Orange hair? Come on! People think it's dyed even though it is 100% natural. And orange hair in Japan is only something you have if you are a delinquent… or a popstar, and I'm neither."

Malfoy snorted. "Blaise said you went to a muggle school, poor you. At least _here_ you won't be bothered by their narrow-mindedness."

For a moment Ichigo wondered when he had told Zabini that he went to high school, but then he remembered that it had actually been Slughorn who had told the other members of the Slug Club about how he had learned all the spells in Defense against the dark arts, transfiguration, and charms during the summer.

His thoughts were interrupted when the doors into the great hall opened yet again and Harry Potter stepped in, still dressed in muggle clothes and blood smeared across his face. With determination he marched all the way down to the Gryffindor table while people stared at him as if he was anything but a teenage boy.

"Ah yes." Malfoy smirked, "I almost forgot to tell you what happened on the train after you left…"

Judging by what the blonde boy said, it became perfectly clear to Ichigo that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy did not like each other. And after a few minutes it also occurred to him that he actually didn't like Malfoy either. He appeared to be one of those people who got everything on a silver platter. The kind of people he just couldn't take.

That was why he was the only one who didn't laugh when Malfoy told the story of how he _owned_ Potter the third time. He didn't laugh the second of or the first time either.

* * *

"You missed the sorting," Hermione said.

"Hat say anything interesting?" Harry asked, taking a piece of treacle tart.

"More of the same, really… advising us all to unite in the face enemies, you know. But that's not really what I wanted to say."

Harry looked at her curiously while he took a bite of his pie.

"Do you remember when you told us about that exchange student?"

"Yes of course, where was he sorted? Rawenclaw?"

"No." She gave him a sad look. "Slytherin."

"What!" He looked at her in disbelief. "But he attends a muggle school in Japan. Dumbledore told me when we picked him up in the airport. How could he end up a place where they hate muggles?"

"I don't know," she said, "but perhaps he has been bullied by muggles in school and therefore does not like them? It is, after all, a bit unusual to have orange hair."

"Or maybe he is a prick," Ron commented with his mouth full of food, "it really shouldn't surprise me. See?" He pointed towards the Slytherin table where Malfoy was once again retelling how he broke Harry's nose. "He is just sitting there with the rest of them, having fun."

Harry followed Ron's finger and caught sight of Kurosaki, but the Japanese boy did not laugh. In fact, he looked like he didn't find any part of the story amusing. Harry could see him say something to Zabini who responded.

Then, it was as if he had felt Harry's gaze because the next moment he turned his head and looked straight into Harry's eyes. He shrugged, rolling his eyes before he turned his attention back to his food.

_Weird._ It was as if he had said sorry in that simple motion. But he was a Slytherin, and Slytherins _were_ stuck-up people who only cared about themselves… but… the sorting hat _had _said that Harry would have done well in Slytherin… maybe… maybe it had said the same thing to Kurosaki, he just didn't know that he was able to choose another house.

It was a possibility.

Another possibility was that he, as Ron said, simply was nothing but a prick who didn't care about anyone but himself.

* * *

**A/N: Finally! As mentioned in the prologue this story was requested. I was asked to do a hp/bleach fic with Ichigo in Slytherin. The rest was up to me. And here he is; in Slytherin xD**

**Please tell me what you think**


	5. The Defenders

**A/N: The reason for me not updating sooner is relatively simple: School. Hopefully this nice, long chapter will make up for it xD**

**I hope you will enjoy this chapter because I certainly enjoyed writing it.**

* * *

_-The Defenders-_

It had been a long time since Ichigo had slept in the same room as so many boys. At first he had been unable to fall asleep because of the snoring contest some of his classmates were apparently having, but after a mumbled spell, he was able to drown out all the sounds from the dormitory. If he was ever going to sleep in the barracks of the 11th division again, he would definitely use this method.

It was now morning and Ichigo was sitting at the Slytherin table together with Malfoy's crew. Once again he was forced to go through the retelling of how Potter was owned – Ichigo mildly wondered if any of the young wizards knew that word – and if he had to be honest, he was rather annoyed with the other boy's attitude. Yes, it was clear that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were enemies, but Ichigo didn't go around bragging to everyone and everything about how he had beaten his opponents either. No, there was no reason to be scornful, in fact, he often pitied them instead.

"Please explain to me again why we can't leave yet," he gritted out between his teeth so only Zabini, who was sitting beside him, could hear what he said. Ichigo had finished eating a while ago and couldn't understand why they were stilling 'chilling' at the table when he could be off to do some more interesting things.

"We need to get our schedules," the other boy answered, "you need to know which classes you have and when."

Ichgio sighed, helping himself to some more bread. He wasn't really hungry anymore, but he needed something to occupy his time and mouth with so he wouldn't be forced to take part in the conversation, and hopefully the munching could drown out Parkinson's annoying laughter as Malfoy had yet again finished the retelling of how he broke Potter's nose.

Luckily it wasn't long before Severus Snape, the head of Slytherin, stood up from his seat at the teacher's table and strode down to the Slytherin table. However, they still had to wait a bit before it was their turn. Malfoy took advantage and Ichigo had to seriously restrain himself so white-haired boy's own nose would still be intact.

At last Snape came to a halt before Malfoy and he was forced to shut up. From what the former shinigami substitute had gathered they had taken some exams last year which decided which subject you could take this year, and Snape was now checking whether or not his classmates had achieved the required grade. Most of them had and the professor moved on to Ichigo.

"Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your achievements during the summer, and as the deal says, you are allowed to participate in the classes of Charms, Transfiguration, and Defense Against the Dark Arts even though you have not taken an O.W.L. in them," he said, his expression inscrutable as he handed him his schedule.

Ichigo took it and quickly scanned it before it was snatched from his hands by none other than Malfoy.

"Wow, you have almost no classes!" he exclaimed after he had read through it, "I envy you. Even though I still have many free periods, you are free almost all the time. For example, you only have Defense Against the Dark Arts today."

Ichigo shrugged. "It probably won't be all that relaxing. I still have homework from my muggle school."

"Ah yes." Malfoy grimaced. "That is rather unfortunate. I still can't believe how you survive in such a place."

The orange-haired boy didn't even bother answering. Instead he stood up and left the morning table. He had a free period right now which he would use to get some training done. He wasn't a shinigami anymore and really didn't need to train but he wanted to keep his body in shape. If he relaxed too much he would pay dearly when he got home, especially with an eccentric dad who preferred to wake his son up with the elbow of love.

He had just changed into his sportswear and begun the warm up when Malfoy and company entered the common room. They stopped in their tracks when say saw him on the floor during a set of push-ups before he switched on to do a set of sit-ups.

"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked the disbelief clear in his voice.

"Training," Ichigo replied curtly.

"Why!"

"If you knew my dad, you would know why." He stood up again, doing some stretching exercises, "besides I need to stay fit for fighting."

"Fighting?" The white-haired boy asked. "Why would you need to resort to such vile muggle strategies? You have magic!"

"And what if you lose your wand? What are you going to do then? Being able to dodge is pretty handy when all other options have gone out the window. Besides, most martial arts come from Asia so of course our magic as martial arts based."

"So you can actually do martial arts?" Parkinson asked, looking very interested."

Ichigo nodded, finally stopping his warm up. "I did karate when I was younger and then I moved on to sword fighting."

"Wow," she said dreamily, "you must be really fit then." She eyed his muscular arms which were visible now that he was only wearing shorts and t-shirts.

"I need to be."

Malfoy snorted. It was clear he wasn't impressed by the Asian student, especially not since all the girls in the room seemed to be eyeing Ichigo the same way Parkinson was.

"Well, I'll be going for a run," the former shinigami substitute stated, walking past Malfoy and his bodyguards before Zabini stopped him with his voice.

"Remember to be back for class," the black boy said, "I doubt you know the way around here, so let's meet up beforehand."

Ichigo grinned. He didn't have the slighted clue where anything besides the common room and the great hall was. He said his thanks and left.

* * *

The sun was shining for a change and the morning air was fresh, a bit chilly, but not worse than what he had already been running through during the cold summer. Dumbledore had said the unusual cold weather and the mist that seemed to be constantly covering England was because of the dementors; creatures that just like hollows sucked the souls out of their victims. Ichigo mildly wondered if there was a connection as he ran down to the great lake, but there probably wasn't. Hollows were dead human souls with negative emotions while dementors were living things who, aside from souls, sucked every happy thought out of you and left you in a state of misery and emotional instability.

When he had run around the lake, he noticed a group of students gathered around a giant of a man, the same man who had entered a bit late the evening before. Apparently he was the teacher in Care for Magical Creatures, and having nothing else to do, Ichigo decided to run over to them and see what the hell was going on. He was a bit curious to what kind of monsters that existed which he had never known about.

As he ran closer he could see how one student noticed him, elbowed his classmate, and pointed at him. The classmate looked like he gasped and then he poked another classmate and thus the circle continued. In a few moments all the students had stopped paying attention to the teacher and were now looking at him as he came to a halt beside them.

Whispers broke out or increased, he wasn't sure which it was since he hadn't been able to hear them before. He really didn't care though. The students looked like they weren't that old, probably 3rd or 4th years and of course they would discuss among themselves why a 6th year and a foreign student was doing in their class, not to mention he was dressed in sportswear = muggle clothes.

"Now, who wants ter be first" the giant of a man, who was called hagrid, said before he noticed that no one was paying attention. He frowned and followed their gases only to look at Ichigo who was standing a bit to the side, looking genuinely interested at the creature that was beside him. "Mr. Kurosaki," he said, "what are yeh doin' here?"

"I was just running around the lake when I saw you here. Thought I'd check it out, see what kind of creatures you have here in England," the teenager replied innocently, taking his eyes from the weird bird/horse thingy that was standing beside the professor.

"Well, this is a hippogriff." Hagrid gestured to the creature beside him.

Ichigo nodded. "And what does it do?"

To the horror of the intimidated 3rd years and the joy of Hagrid, the former shinigami substitute ended up participating in the entire lesson. He found that he quite liked the half-giant and made a deal with him to feel free to join any Care of Magical Creatures lesson he found interesting without getting any homework. It wouldn't be on his schedule, and it was only when he had time, but he knew he was definitely going to show up whenever he wasn't drowning in homework.

* * *

After a quick shower he met up with the rest of the Slytherins who had continued with Defense Against the Dark Arts. It wasn't that many; only Malfoy, Zabini, himself, and Parkinson. They led the way to the classroom and Ichigo tried his best to memorize the way, especially the way back. This school was like one big maze and he briefly thought about getting a map. When he asked Zabini where he could get one, the black boy looked at him oddly and said he would know his way around soon enough. Ichigo wasn't convinced.

Finally they came to the classroom, but it seemed like the door was locked since the students from the other houses were waiting outside, chatting with each other about the amount of homework some of them had already received.

The classroom door opened and Snape stepped into the corridor. Silence fell over the queue immediately. Ichigo didn't really know the man, but he could figure out he was of the type who demanded respect, or at least silence.

"Inside," the professor said.

Ichigo inspected the room as they stepped inside. It was gloomier than he had expected from a classroom with windows, but curtains had been drawn to block out the sunlight. The room was lit with candlelight and the pictures on the walls showed people in deep suffering and misery. Nobody spoke as they settled down, intimidated by the room as they were. He had to admit he wasn't too fond of it either.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," Snape said, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk. The few people who had already begun taking out their books quickly stuffed them back in their school bags. "I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention." His black eyes roved over their upturned faces. "You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be more advanced." He set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view. "The Dark Arts," he said, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Ichigo could only nod at what the man was saying. He had faced horrors and hollows and knew that their professor was probably speaking from experience.

"Your defences," said Snape a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" - he indicated to a few of them as he swept past - "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" - he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony - "feel the Dementor's Kiss" - a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall - "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" - a bloody mass upon ground.

"Has an Inferius been seen, then?" a girl from Gryffindor asked in a high pitched voice. "Is it definite, is he using them?"

"The Dark Lord has used Inferi in the past," Snape said, "which means you would be well-advised to assume he might use them again. Now…"He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him. "… you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

A brown-haired girl from Gryffindor's hand shot into the air. Ichigo noticed she had been talking to Harry the evening before and just now before they were allowed into the classroom. Snape took his time looking around at everybody else, making sure he had no choice, before saying curtly, "Very well - Miss Granger?"

"Your adversary has no warning about what kind of magic you're about to perform," the girl said who Ichgio now knew to be named Granger, "which gives you a split-second advantage."

"An answer copied almost word for word from The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six," Snape said dismissively (Malfoy sniggered beside Ichigo), "but correct in essentials. Yes, those who progress in using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some lack. You will now divide into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry-"

He stopped as Ichigo's hand shot in the air. The rest of the class turned to see what had caused him to halt in the middle of his sentence and looked stunned to see the foreign student with his hand in the air.

"Mr. Kurosaki," he said curtly.

"I have a question concerning the use of non-verbal spell," the orange-haired teenager started, "we also have spells that can be almost non-verbal in my country, but then the power of the spell is greatly weakened, is that the same with non-verbal spells in your kind of magic?"

"The spells have the same power as if they were spoken," Snape replied.

"Then why would anyone ever say the name of the spell? Isn't it much easier to just wave your wand?"

"There is a reason this is only taught in N.E.W.T. level. As I said before, only those with the proper concentration and mind-power can perform them."

Ichigo nodded, satisfied with the answer. It did, after all, make sense since it was only experienced Kido-users who could shorten the incantation and still have a decent spell.

"If no one has more questions you will do as I said before. Carry on."

Ichigo turned to Zabini. "So… do you want to begin or should I?" He briefly noted how Malfoy paired up with Parkinson now that Ichigo had already chosen Zabini.

Zabini shrugged. "I don't really care; you can begin if you want to."

"Alright," Ichigo said and with a swish of his wand and a few words thought in his head sent his partner flying across the classroom. He immediately lowered his wand in shock, surprised by his own ability.

The rest of the class was staring at him silently, stunned faces looking back and forth from where Zabini was lying on the floor to where Ichigo stood.

"I believe that feat earns you 20 points to Slytherin, Mr. Kurosaki," Snape said, managing to hide his shocked expression. But it had been there, Ichigo was sure of that. "Not many manage to perform a non-verbal spell at their first try." He turned to Zabini who had crashed into the wall and was now holding his head in pain. "You will follow Mr. Zabini up to the hospital wing to get him checked for a possible concussion. Come back afterwards."

Ichigo stuffed his wand in his pocket in picked up Zabini's – it had flown out of Zabini's hand when the jinx had hit him - before he helped him up on his feet, hoisting the boy's arm around his shoulder to support his legs that were weak due to the impact.

"Sorry about that," he said once they had gotten out of the classroom, "I didn't know I would succeed in the first try."

Zabini smiled meekly. "Don't worry. I'm just glad a Slytherin was the first one. That Granger Mudblood is always beating us to it."

Ichigo arched an eyebrow. "Mudblood? Why do you call her that?"

"Because she is muggle born. She is not even a real witch!"

"So what?"

"What?" Zabini turned his head to look at his classmate.

"What does it matter if she is muggle born? If she has magical abilities she must be a witch, right?"

His next words indicated that if he could Zabini would have shrugged."You have much to learn, Kurosaki."

Ichigo disregarded his comment and the rest of the walk was spent in silence. Zabini informed the new students of the way since he had no idea in which direction they were going.

He pushed the door into the hospital wing open and was met by a little stern-looking witch he recognized to be Madam Pomfrey. She was sitting on a chair in front of a small writing desk, but stood up as soon as the two boys were inside.

"And what happened here?" she asked as she directed Ichigo over to an empty bed where he carefully helped Zabini sit down.

"I was too good in Defense Against the Dark Arts," the former shinigami substitute explained, scratching his orange hair, "I sent him flying into the wall."

The witch arched a brow but said nothing as she turned to inspect Zabini. After a careful examination she declared that the boy had received a small concussion and should rest for the time being. Then she ushered Ichigo out of the room and stated he should head back to class.

* * *

When he came back to the classroom, Granger was the only one who had also managed to use a non-verbal spell so Snape paired them up.

Ichigo stood before Granger who was looking at him suspiciously, prepared for an attack.

"I think it is best if you attack. I would rather avoid more trips to the hospital wing today," he said.

"Are you saying I am incapable of defending myself?" she retorted and sent a jinx in his direction.

He blocked it with a simple flick of his wand and shook his head in response to her question. "No, I am saying that I don't trust myself not to accidently send you flying." He repelled another jinx. "You saw what happened to Zabini and that was my first try."

She huffed and sent a jinx his way. Again he blocked without really trying. She continued to do that a for a few minutes, the anger growing in her eyes every time he repelled one of her spells. A few students looked at them in amazement whenever Snape wasn't looking, but neither Granger nor Ichigo cared. Granger was too caught up in trying to hit her opponent just once, and Ichigo was trying his best not to accidentally hit the girl with one of her own repelled jinxes.

"Why are you so good?" she asked aggravated when Snape had sent a glare in their spectators' direction and everyone were back to practicing their own non-verbal magic. "It's like you are not even trying."

Ichigo shrugged. "To be honest, I am not, but that's probably because I'm used to fire an unspoken Getsuga. It's basically the same thing."

"Getsuga?"

"Err…" he paused, wondering how he should explain it to her, repelling a jinx in the meantime, "I guess it can be classified as a spell, but only my dad and I are able to do it." He refrained from telling her that he had lost the ability.

"Why is it only you and your dad?" She fired a new jinx.

He blocked effortlessly. "That's kinda hard to explain, but some people have magic that only they can do, and I guess that since my dad and I are related, we can do the same spell."

She nodded. "I guess that makes sense. What about your mom? Can she do any personal magic?"

"She was a muggle."

Granger's eyes widened and she forgot to fire, instead she lowered her wand. "Was?"

"She died when I was nine.

"May I ask how?" she inquired, searching his face for any sign of hurt.

She probably found it, ichigo deduced, because her expression changed to that of pity. "The Grand Fisher, a monster who went after me, but ended up killing my mom instead."

"I-I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "Don't be, it happened a long time ago."

She smiled kindly. "You are very different from the other Slytherins."

"I know." He grinned," being different is basically my life in a nutshell.

"Harry tells me you usually go a muggle school," she said, "I find it funny that you ended up in Slytherin of all places."

"The hat did consider Gryffindor, but eventually decided on Slytherin," he informed her, and felt an unpleasant sensation in the back of his neck. "Snape is looking, quick, try to jinx me."

She quickly flicked her wand and he responded in kind.

"How did you know he was looking?" she questioned, "you can't even see him."

"When you've been in enough battles, you know when an enemy is approaching."

She continued her assault. "Battles? Is that why you are so good at repelling spells?"

He continued his defense. "Yep, I can tell when you are going cast a spell before you even know it yourself." She appeared to not be convinced at all, so he continued. "Of course I can't see the future, but I can read your intent very clearly. When you've been in as many battles as I have, you will understand how."

She smiled." Probably." Then she stopped again, her wand hanging in the air as her eyes settled on something behind Ichigo.

He turned to see what she was looking at, and found that Snape had just turned his wand at Potter, ready to fire a spell. Potter reacted instinctively as Ichigo knew he would and yelled, "Protego!"

His Shield Charm was so strong Snape was knocked off-balance and hit a desk. The whole class had looked around and now watched as Snape righted himself, scowling.

"Do you remember me telling you we are practicing nonverbal spells, Potter?"

"Yes," Potter replied stiffly.

"Yes, _sir_."

"There's no need to call me 'sir,' Professor."

Several people gasped at his response, including Granger. A few Gryffindors grinned behind Snape, just managing to hide their laughter.

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," the professor said "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter… not even 'the Chosen One.'" He turned to glare at the petrified students and at once everyone was back to minding their own business.

"I like your friend," Ichigo stated, grinning when Granger appeared to have gone into shock, "he's got guts!"

"Guts!" she shrieked in disbelief, "he's got no brain. That was really stupid of him!"

"Well I think it was funny. Going against authorities is what I do best."

She responded with a swish of her wand. He repelled.

* * *

"That was brilliant, Harry!" Ron chortled, once they were safely on their way to break a short while later.

"You really shouldn't have said it," Hermione said, frowning at Ron. "What made you?"

"He tried to jinx me, in case you didn't notice!" Harry fumed. "I had enough of that during those Occlumency lessons! Why doesn't he use another guinea pig for a change? What's Dumbledore playing at, anyway, letting him teach Defense? Did you hear him talking about the Dark Arts? He loves them! All that unfixed, indestructible stuff —"

"Well," Hermione said, "I thought he sounded a bit like you."

"Like me?"

"Yes, when you were telling us what it's like to face Voldemort. You said it wasn't just memorizing a bunch of spells, you said it was just you and your brains and your guts - well, wasn't that what Snape was saying? That it really comes down to being brave and quick-thinking?"

Harry was so disarmed that she had thought his words as well worth memorizing as The Standard Book of Spells that he did not argue.

"Let's not talk more about that," Ron said and turned to Hermione, "tell us about Kurosaki, I saw you two having a funny little chat. Fraternizing with the enemy again?"

Hermone scoffed at his accusing tone. "If you really want to know then his mom was a muggle and the hat considered putting him in Gryffindor. He would probably be best buds with you guys right now if he wasn't in Slytherin."

"But the hat did put him in Slytherin, did it not?" he retorted as if that was a valid argument.

"Well," Harry began, "the hat considered putting me in Slytherin too, but I chose Gryffindor."

"See?" Hermione pointed out, "it's basically the same thing. Kurosaki even supported Harry's impertinence earlier."

"Don't defend him, Hermione," Ron said sourly.

"And why not!"

"Because he's in Slytherin! He hates muggles. Defending him is like a cat defending a dog."

The girl sighed in expiration. "Didn't you listen to what I said before? He mom was a muggle, how can he hate his own mom?"

"And he does go to a muggle school," Harry stated."

"Not you too, Harry." Ron cried in disbelief.

"Ron, you are the only one who has not had any sort of interaction with him," Hermione said, "maybe you should talk to him before you judge him?"

The red-haired boy didn't respond, instead he huffed and refused to speak another word until Jack Sloper called out to Harry.

* * *

Ichigo was free off for the day and decided he would spend his free time getting some homework done. He still had some homework from his high school, and now he also had and essay in the use of non-verbal spells. He cursed under his breath. Speaking English was one thing - he had gotten the hang of it although the Japanese accent lingered – but he actually had to write an essay in it. Of course he had written in English before, the English lessons and Japan focused mostly on the written part, but he knew he was nowhere near the level of a native speaker. Hopefully Snape would not judge him by his writing skills and instead focus and what he actually said about the use of non-verbal spells.

"You worked with Granger today," Parkinson said, sitting down beside Ichigo in the couch he had occupied.

"No shit Sherlock," he replied, not looking up from his homework.

"How was it?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious how it was to work with that mudblood."

He shrugged. "I didn't work with any mudblood, so I wouldn't know."

"I don't understand why you like muggles so much, maybe you secretly are a Weasley?"

"I don't understand why you hate them so much," he retorted, "and I am quite sure I don't have any European genes in me."

She snorted. "Since you are so stubborn, let me rephrase my question, how was working with little Miss-know-it-all?"

He sighed loudly, indication that he really didn't feel like answering her question. "There's really nothing to tell. She fired spells at me, I repelled."

"You didn't fire anything at her?" Surprise was easily detectable in her voice.

"Nah, I didn't feel like going to the hospital wing again."

She giggled and he found that he really didn't like the sound of it. "Pity."

She didn't deserve a response, so he pointedly ignored her until she got the hint and left to find Malfoy.

* * *

**A/N: Before anyone say anything, I would like to state that the will be absolutely NO romance between Hermione and Ichigo. I just thought Ron's reaction to Ichigo and Hermione working together would be similar to the reaction he had with Krum.**

**Do vote in my poll for which story to focus on. If you want this story to be updated more frequently I advise you to vote, or else it will probably not be prioritized much.**

**And don't forget to leave a review. They inspire me xD**


	6. Requiem for a Dream

_**-Requiem for a Dream-**_

Punch

Punch

Kick

Evade

Punch

Dodge

Roundhouse kick

Jump

Punch

Do-giggle?

Ichigo scowled annoyed as he turned around to glare at the Slytherin girls who were watching him doing his morning workout. Unfortunately their giggles and whispers only increased when he looked at them, and he found himself missing the days when people were afraid of him and his permanently furrowed eyebrows.

It was Saturday in the second weekend at this school year on Hogwarts, and Ichigo had decided to spend his time outside with training and getting as much d-vitamin as he could. At the moment he had done all his homework, both from Hogwarts and from high school, so he had thought that this was a perfect opportunity to relax and get some training done… Unluckily, almost every Slytherin girl above the age of 13 was out there, watching him as he fought with an imagined opponent. He could tell from their whishful looks and their wandering eyes that he had somehow become extremely popular among the opposite gender. Something he had never tried before. Whether it was because he was new and therefore interesting, or it was because he was the only guy here who actually had a bit of muscle, he did not now. It was probably a mixture of both.

It was annoying nonetheless.

Deciding to ignore them, he continued with his series of kicks and punches, as his ears tried to block out the excited chatter among his spectators.

He wondered where the hell the other boys from Slytherin had disappeared to in that moment. Honestly, he did not care what Malfoy or his cronies did in their spare time, but he would like to know where Zabini was. The two of them had spent quite an amount of time together in the last week, and Ichigo had found that out of all his classmates, he liked the other member of the Slug Club the best.

Another person who he had spent much of his time with was Hermione Granger, to the distaste of every freaking Slytherin student. Mudblood, they called her mockingly, their faces twisted in resentment when they spoke about her. Very often, his classmates had tried to persuade him to drop all contact with the Gryffindor girl, but the former shinigami substitute didn't really care. Hermione Granger was the only one who could match him in Defense Against the Dark Arts and as such he had continued to pair up with her in all of their classes. Soon, he had decided, he would also begin to counterattack to prepare for the any 'real' fight she would end up in. He would still go easy on her though, as he was by far more experienced than her, and it would only end badly if he didn't hold back.

"Look at him," someone's voice said excitedly, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Isn't he dreamy?" another joined in.

"It's a shame the other boys don't train like him," a third person said, and shortly after, the whispering among the girls were no longer just whispering but actual conversation. Slightly wondering if they knew he could hear them, he increased his pace in an effort to block out their chatting. He didn't succeed, and when the question, "do you think he has a girlfriend back in Japan?" reached his ears, he decided that enough was enough and completely stilled in his tracks. The whispers stopped almost instantly, and he was certain the girls expected some sort of answer from him now that that particular question had made him pause. The looks they gave him strongly signaled so, but he did not feel like humoring them; it would only give them false hopes. With one last roll of his eyes in their direction to indicate what he thought about their gossiping, he resolutely turned around and broke out into a light run. Of course, he could go faster, but that would make it seem like he was fleeing, so instead his pace was kept controlled, and yet still fast enough so his apparent fan girls didn't get the stupid idea to follow after him. He didn't need to look over his shoulder to know the girls now bore disappointed expressions, but he couldn't care less. They were being a bother, and he needed to get some exercise.

His run was nice and relaxing as he kept a steady pace around the school grounds. However, his curiosity was piqued when he saw several people on broomsticks over by the Quidditch stadium. Deciding to check it out, he headed over there, fully knowing, but not really caring, that whoever was on those broomsticks, weren't Slytherins.

They were Gryffindor students, he could see once he got close enough, but sitting on the stands he also spotted quite a few students from both Rawenclaw and Hufflepuff. In the pitch stood Harry Potter who was currently yelling at some students, his face flushed with mild anger and annoyance while the people he was shouting at seemed equally displeased with whatever the topic was. As he let his gaze sweep over the spectators, he spotted Granger among them just as he had expected. Granger, Potter, and their red-haired friend always seemed to be together, and he quickly caught sight of the Weasley too. The only reason why he knew the boy's name was because several Slytherin students spoke about him and his friends in a very degrading way. What a major understatement that was.

People were starting to notice him now as he was standing near the pitches; they patted each other's' shoulders and pointed him out to their friends, their lips moving, but the sounds not reaching his ears. Oh well, it was not like he wasn't used to being stared at and pointed out by now. He was the Japanese student after all, and he was a Slytherin who got along with a Mudblood. So thinking that his reputation wouldn't worse after this, he made his way towards Granger who moved over a bit to make space for him beside her.

"Morning," he greeted and sat down on the now free space.

"Good morning," she said, smiling politely, "out for a morning run?" She ignored the sudden attention of the people who were sitting nearby, even when their whispers became somewhat ridiculous.

"I was, but then I saw all this and decided to come see what the commotion is about."

"Tryouts s for the quidditch team," a male voice informed him, causing Ichigo to look past the Gryffindor girl and see a tall 7th year boy he knew he had seen before. "We met on the train, in old Sluggy's compartment," the boy said confidently, reaching past Granger to shake his hand. "Cormac McLaggen, Keeper." It was probably because they were both "old Sluggy's" favorites that McLaggen, a Gryffindor was friendly to a Slytherin. The former substitute shinigami had seen the other boy sneer at younger Slytherins while smiling to Zabini.

"You aren't yet," Granger said, a hint of resentment in her voice, her gaze turning towards the pitch were a couple of boys were making their way towards Potter while the people the scarred wizard had been talking to before sourly stomped off to join the other spectators in the stands.

"Oh, but I will be," McLaggen assured them both, a rather smug look on his face, "the only real competition here is Weasley, and I am much, much better than him."

"Do you play Quidditch in Japan?" Granger asked, turning to look at Ichigo, her eyes rolling in an unspoken message."

"I don't," he answered, getting the cue that Granger was not fond of McLaggen. _At all._

"But other people do?" she continued.

Honestly, he had no idea about which kind of sports the Japanese magical society played, so he settled for a, "martial arts is more common."

"I see… and you practice martial arts, right?"

"Yes."

"Martial arts?" It was McLaggen who had voiced that question and both Granger and Ichigo turned to look at the broad boy, Granger trying to hide the annoyance that was showing on her face. The annoyed look, however, quickly faded as McLaggen pulled Ichigo into a conversation about martial arts and the like. Apparently the boy was extremely interested in sports, so now when he was introduced to a new kind of it, he had to know as much as he could. Granger was left out of the conversation which consisted mostly of the Gryffindor boy asking questions and Ichio answering them. Even though they were sitting on both sides of her, she didn't seem to mind and instead leaned forward to look out at the tryouts.

Finally it was the keepers' turn to tryout and the not-really Japanese wizard sighed heavily when his fellow Slug Club member rose from his seat and self-importantly made his way down to the pitch. That McLaggen asked too many questions. Granger rolled her eyes at the boy; she too seemed to be fairyly satisfied with the departure of the 7th year.

"Finally rid of him, huh?" Ichigo said, a wry smile on his lips.

"At least you don't live in the same house as him," Granger retorted as they both watched Potter instruct the people who wanted to be keepers.

He glanced at her. "I have Malfoy."

"I admit defeat."

A couple of Gryffindors rose into the air on their broomsticks; one went to guard the three goals closets to them while the others flew a bit further away, taking up positions. The first two applicators to the position as keeper only saved 2 goal each, but McLaggen was doing much better to Granger's increasing anxiety.

"I hope he doesn't get on the team," she told Ichigo as McLaggen had scored his 3th goal. She was biting her bottom lip, her face twisted in apprehension as she watched the broad boy fly back to the goal triumphantly, his right arms raised in a fist. "He has a nasty personality."

"I've noticed," Ichigo admitted. "What about your friend Weasley? He was keeper last year, right? Shouldn't he be able to get on the team again?"

She grimaced. "He has issues. He keeps believing he isn't good enough when clearly he is."

"Low self-esteem, huh?"

She nodded and there was a brief pause in their conversation as McLaggen saved his 4th goal. If possible, Granger looked even more nervous than before; her face was set in a frown, her fingers were almost desperately clenching the wood where she was sitting.

"There's something else to your dislike of him, isn't there?" he asked.

"Yes," she admitted, not even glancing at him, "you should have heard him before you arrived. All the awful things he said about my friends." She gritted her teeth.

Ichigo regarded her silently before he looked out at McLaggen who was getting ready to save yet another goal. He contemplated for a bit, then, making a quick decision, he mumbled a wandless spell under his breath.

Granger's eyes widened as McLaggen took a completely wrong turn at the last minute and looked back at the Slytherin who was grinning war to smugly to be innocent.

"Was that you?" she asked over the laughing and booing crowd, looking rather dismayed and astonished.

He smirked, quite satisfied with himself. "I'm a Slytherin. It's normal to sabotage people from other houses, isn't it?"

Her mortification melted away at his smirk and gave way to a small smile. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Cheer on your friend instead." Ichigo nodded towards the pitch where Weasley looked ready to pass out as he mounted his broomstick. Granger nodded, a smile still on her face as she opened her mouth, ready to do exactly what Ichigo had told her to do when another female voice interrupted her.

"Good luck!"

Ichigo turned to see who had shouted and found that the voice belonged to a blonde Gryffindor Girl from their year. Granger looked positively annoyed and closed her mouth tight-lipped, instead opting to follow the Weasley silently as he outshone McLaggen completely and saved all five goals.

Both Ichigo and Granger cheered along with the excited crowd, but it wasn't long before Granger excused herself, got up from her seat, and made her way towards Weasley and Potter. The Slytherin contemplated following her to congratulate Weasley, but eventually decided against it. Instead he headed back to his dormitory to take a shower. Granger had been kind enough not to comment on the sour smell of sweat that hung in the air around him.

* * *

He spent the afternoon with studying. While he currently had done all his homework, he had, after all, promised to read up on the correct uses of all the spells he had learned during the summer at Dumbledore's. When he was just about to get up from the rather comfortable couch he had been occupying and head up for dinner, Zabini stepped into the common room an informed Ichigo that Slughorn was inviting them to have supper with him and the rest of the Slug club.

In Slughorn's rooms they met up with the few other selected students who were members of the exclusive club, however, a few people were missing including; Potter, Longbottom and Belby, while a few others had been added; Granger and a girl who introduced herself as Melinda Bobbin. Ichigo frowned in confusion. He had gathered that the fat professor had weeded out those who were not influential or potential enough, but why was Potter not present? Surely the chosen one, the prize in Slughorn's private collection was not deemed unwelcome.

Slughorn himself answered Ichigo's unspoken question when he sighed heavily and declared that Harry Potter had detention with Snape and could therefore not attend their little social gathering.

"But that shall not prevent us from having fun tonight," he exclaimed happily as he let them to a small, round dinner table filled to the brim with extravagant foods of all kinds.

To Zabini's resentment, Granger gestured for Ichigo to sit beside her before McLaggen could reach the empty chair. Of course the orange-haired boy sat down without complain, but Zabini was more reluctant to sit so close to a mudblood. He could of course have taken another seat but that would mean sitting too close to the Weasley, and from what Ichigo had gathered that was just as bad.

The evening was rather cozy and the Japanese student actually enjoyed himself despite Slughorn's over-friendliness and obvious favoritism of the little exclusive club. He still couldn't get over the fact that a teacher was actually considering _him_, Kurosaki Ichigo with the delinquent-y orange hair and a bad tendency for not coming to school a few months in a row, worth having in his little collection of remarkable people.

After the supper, he spent some time chatting with Zabini and a few other people from their year in the Slytherin common room. He was about to go to bed when a sour-looking Malfoy and his two faithful sidekicks entered the common room and plopped themselves down in a remote couch. Parkinson darted over to them, smiling brightly as she tried to strike up conversation with her obvious love interest who did not seem in the mood to deal with her.

Yawning, Ichigo stated that he was deadly tired and Zabini suggested that he went to bed or stopped getting up at an ungodly hour to train even when it was weekend. The former shinigami substitute grinned and playfully stated that the chocolate-skinned boy was welcome to join him anytime if he felt like bulking up thus increasing his chance with the girls. At those words Ichigo's quickly forming fan club giggled loudly and sent him dreamy looks of hope which made him bolt and flee from the room in a speed that almost resembled shunpo.

He fell asleep almost instantly, not even waking up when Malfoy and his cronies entered the dormitory rather loudly. Instead, he was far, far away, caught in a dream that was not really a dream at all.

_He had been in a brawl with his father that night. Nothing unusual there. But what had been unusual, was that black butterfly he had suddenly noticed while he was doing his homework. The first thought that flew through his head was, how the hell it had gotten inside when his window was closed. The next thought that went through his head was why the hell there was a short, black-haired girl dressed in old traditional Japanese clothes standing on his desk._

_Then he kicked her._

_Then his father kicked him, demanding that he stopped making such noise. To his surprise he found that his father could not see the girl. She explained why. She was a shinigami, a death god, a soul reaper. Her job was to slay hollows and send wholes to Soul Society. She explained it by drawing._

_Her drawings sucked._

_Then a hollow attacked. A hollow attacked his sister, his family. The shinigami told him to stay back, but he didn't. He broke the restraining spell she had cast upon him. He ran down, saw his dad on the floor, bleeding, saw the hole in the wall, saw the gigantic abomination outside on the street holding his deer little sister, saw its ugly bone white head as it looked at him. He was afraid, scared, but he was more frightened at the thought of being unable to save his sister. _

_So he attacked._

_It was futile. The hollow was too strong, too strong for a mere human. The shinigami saved him. She explained to him that its target was him. He was responsible for the attack on his family, it was his fault. So he faced it, faced the hollow and told it to bring it. He wasn't one to run from his fears. He wasn't one to let others be hurt because of him._

_And yet that was exactly what happened._

_He was a mere human, and a mere human did not stand a chance against a hollow. The shinigami sacrificed herself to protect him. It was her job, her duty, but still foolish. Now no one stood a chance against the monster that was coming closer and closer. It was terribly wounded from the cut the shiigami had given it earlier and now it wanted revenge. _

_There was no other choice._

_He stabbed himself with the shinigami's zanpakutou and became a shinigami_

_He obtained the power necessary to protect his family._

_He slayed the hollow._

Ichigo awoke with a start. Sweat was pouring down his face and he was breathing heavily. He faintly noticed that something heavy was pressing down on his sheets, hindering his legs from moving. He looked around to see if anyone was as awake as him, but the dorm was still filled with the same loud, constant snoring which had been there all the other nights. He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples to calm himself down. The dream had been as clear as if he really just had been fighting his very first hollow. But he hadn't. It had been a year and a few months since that had happened, and now he was lying in a dormitory under a giant lake in some magic school in Scotland. He was far from Karakura. He frowned, trying to move his legs, but again, something was pressing down on his sheets so he couldn't move them. Okay, he probably could if he wasn't too exhausted from the… nightmare? He wasn't sure if he could call it that when it was actually a memory. Nah, it wasn't a nightmare, he concluded. After all, nightmares always ended badly and this dream had ended well. He had, after all, succeeded in protecting his family. He smiled faintly at the memory. Yes, it was not a nightmare; it was a good memory and the start of a new life for him. With a content sigh he lay down again, though still frowning faintly at the annoying weight that was still pressing down on his sheaths. But he fell into a deep, dreamless slumber as soon as his head hit the pillow, all thoughts about moving his legs long gone.


End file.
